


If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.

by Minxie



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: FEST: TJRBB 2013, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pride brings a new blond to Liberty Avenue. Brian wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.

**Author's Note:**

> **Artist:** @qafmaniac ♥ ♥ ♥  
>  **Beta(s):** @shinyredrain, @aislinntlc, and @leela_cat ♥ ♥ ♥  
>  **A/N:** Because @leela_cat plays dirty pool and tempted me with the idea of Brian Kinney. She knows he is my Achilles' heel. ♥s you, babe! Credit for the deliciously appropriate title goes to Katharine Hepburn.
> 
>  **Link to art master post:** [On DW](http://qafmaniac.dreamwidth.org/296296.html) or [on LJ.](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/229664.html)

  


Leaning against the catwalk, I look out over the crowd and smirk. Babylon is packed. Wall-to-wall men. Most of them are half-naked, all of them are on their way to drunk, and more than a handful have paid homage to the backroom.

Pride is excellent for business. And making money keeps my dick from going soft.

A very good thing, considering the piece of blond boy ass that just walked in.

"He's straight."

Giving the kid another head-to-toe look, I shake my head. No way could a straight boy pull off the come hither looks this one is giving to more than half the room. Justin has to be wrong. "In the closet? Maybe. Straight? No fuckin' way."

"Seriously, Brian," Justin says. "That's Tommy Joe Ratliff, the guitarist for Adam Lambert –"

"Who?"

Justin stops and rolls his eyes. "Adam Lambert, Liberty PrideFest, tomorrow night. Ring any bells?"

Killer eyes and a smile pretty enough to give old Justin here a run for his money. Bet that blond can tell us all about how Lambert can ring some bells. "Yeah… that kid plays for him?"

"Yes," Justin says. "And more than once they have both announced his straight to the world."

Why the hell would anyone need the latest big gay messiah to confirm his straight? That alone makes it suspect. Snorting, I say, "They lied."

"Brian." Justin sighs. "You can't make him gay just because you want to fuck him."

I could argue that. I've had more than one supposedly straight boy take it up the ass for me. "What I can and cannot do is not up for debate. That kid?" I look pointedly at Justin. "He likes cock just as much as you do."

"Who likes cock as much as Justin?" Emmett drapes himself over Justin's back, a ridiculously colorful concoction in his hand. "And is he cute? Do I know him? Do I _need_ to know him? Well, that's just silly. If he likes cock as much as my baby here, I definitely need to know him."

"Bet he has the same opinion," I say to Justin. "Ask him and when Auntie Em proves me right," a smirk dances around the edges of my lips, "I want you to go down there and feel the kid out. Or, you know, feel him up. Either one works." 

Justin rolls his eyes. "Okay, you're on."

"Oh, a bet… okay," Emmett says, squirming his way into the space between Justin and me. "Point him out to me, boys."

"How about you just search the floor and find me the straight boy?"

Emmett blinks once, and then once again. "Why is there a straight boy in Babylon?"

Laughing, I say, "I don't think there is, but Justin swears this kid comes with papers authenticating his straight."

"Unhumm," Emmett says, scanning the crowd. 

I know the minute he spies the pretty little blond leaning against the bar. "Oh, hey, look! It's Tommy Joe Ratliff. I'm going to see him and Adam Lambert tomorrow night." Emmett looks back at me. "Street stage, right outside the diner."

"Yeah. Justin and I were talking about going," I say, lying my ass off. But if the blond proves just how bent his straight really is… well, we might have a reason to go after all. "Not sure yet, though."

"That's not who you two are… Oh."

Something on my face must have given it away.

"They say he's straight."

"I didn't ask for the press release, Honeycutt," I snark. "What do you think?"

"Oh," Emmett flaps a hand towards the bar and says, "I think that piece of pretty is as much of a nelly bottom as I am."

I burst out laughing. "You're up, _Sunshine_. Make it good, yeah? You know how much I like to watch."

Justin on the hunt is something else that makes my dick hard. It's been too long since Justin's been on the prowl when I can watch him. It's something he usually saves for when business has us apart for more than a week or two. More's the fucking pity.

However, I try to return the favor. Keep my hands to myself if he's with me, trick like a champ when he isn't. It works for us. At least it does now, since Justin has some years – and a couple of broken hearts – behind him.

"Which blond do you want more?"

I shoot Emmett a look – because, really? – and turn back to the floor show. "I want them both." I take a sip of my beer and add, "At the same time."

"You're a greedy man, Brain Kinney," Emmett says. 

The retort dies on my lips. Because Justin is leaning in close to Tommy, whispering in his ear, and then they both look my way. I tip my beer and arch a brow. The universal question is easy to decipher… if you're gay, that is.

It's Tommy who confirms with a nod.

And I burst out laughing again. Straight, my ass.

I watch everyone else watch Justin and Tommy skirt the dance floor and climb the catwalk. Jealousy, thy name is every fag who isn't me.

Holding my hand out, I say, "Brian Kinney."

"Tommy Ratliff."

The kid is seriously working the big-eyed Bambi thing. I have a couple of accounts that'd kill to have him as their front man. Too bad for them that I plan to fuck him. If the kid backs down I'll mention the possibility of modeling.

"So, uh." Tommy looks at Justin and then back to me. "Justin says we can get the fuck outta here? 'Cause, really, the backroom isn't my thing."

"No, I could see how that wouldn't work too well with that straight story you've got going on."

"Brian! You can't just say shit like…"

Justin is on the verge of another ear-blistering PSA. To cut it off before damage can be done, I pull him close to me and, gripping his ass with one hand, cover his mouth with mine. It takes a silent count of five before he's kissing me back, meeting my tongue thrust for thrust.

Pushing him away, I say, "Now that _that_ lecture has been averted, let's get the fuck outta here."

Behind me I hear Tommy chuckling softly. I think I could actually like the kid.

By the time we make it into the loft, I've had my hands down Tommy's pants – and Justin wins that _who has the best ass_ contest, hands down – and my tongue down Justin's throat, and all I want is a handful of condoms and a sturdy piece of furniture.

Fortunately, both are in abundance. 

"Shower?" Justin asks.

"Bedroom," Tommy replies.

Someone has their priorities in order. And for once it isn't Justin. Snorting, I point at Tommy, and, without waiting to see what he does, head for the stairs. He follows me. Pulling at his t-shirt, I murmur, "At least two of us are on the same page."

"Justin'll catch up," Tommy replies, grappling with my belt. 

I grunt in return. It's the most effort I'm willing to give it, more intent on tracing the string of horror faces tatted on Tommy's arm.

By the time Justin makes his way to the bedroom, Tommy and I have both lost our shirts and shoes. Give us two more minutes, and we'll be stretched out on the bed and getting sweaty. Looking over Tommy's shoulder, I say, "You're still dressed."

"It's not a race, Brian," Justin responds.

I want to make some smart-assed comment, share some of my scathing wit, but Tommy drops down in front of me and starts mouthing my dick _through_ my goddamn jeans and, really, if Justin wants to keep his clothes on and sit back and watch? Fucking good enough for him.

Canting my head, I look down at Tommy and damn near drown in the unrestrained excitement shining in his eyes. Blinking, I swallow once and then drawl, "Show me what you got."

Tommy pops the button on my jeans, pulls the zip and has the head of my cock in his mouth before I can say another word. He flicks his tongue against my slit and then slowly swallows around my dick. My entire dick.

_Jesus._

Threading my fingers through his hair, I push my hips forward slightly. Just enough to take back a measure of control, as small as it is.

And he hums – fucking _hums_ – as he pulls back, only to deep throat my dick again.

Beside me, Justin sucks in an audible breath.

"Nowhere near as straight as you thought, is he?" 

"Fuck, Brian," Justin says, his voice hitting that octave that tells me he's touching himself.

"Don't you dare come, Justin," I growl. "I'm thinking Tommy is gonna want a taste of your dick before the night is over."

Tommy, the little shit, hums _again_ and I'm lost, just fucking gone. Tipping the fuck over into pleasure and bliss where nothing matters except the rush of coming down someone's throat. 

I tighten my fingers in his hair, using my grip to pull him closer while I push my dick into his mouth. He doesn't offer even a token measure of resistance.

"Fuck," I whisper. Then louder, "Just like that."

One thrust, two and then three. I look down, watching as he takes my cock and my come.

"Brian," Justin moans my name like a little slut. Just by the tone, I know he wants to kiss Tommy, to suck my come off of Tommy's tongue. I'm good with it. The rule – _don't kiss anyone else on the mouth_ – was his idea to begin with.

Pulling back, I nod once. "Do it. Make it sloppy."

Justin drops to his knees and bowls Tommy over in his haste to kiss him. It's a visible battle of teeth and tongue, Tommy giving as good as he's getting. My come is dribbling out the corners of their lips, smearing across their faces, and they're grinding against one another like two teenagers rushing to rub one off in the locker room.

And I hope to fuck they come just like that, half clothed and rutting against each other on the floor. Because Justin will never be able to live down creaming his fucking cargos.

Staring down at them, laughing at the sweaty, panting mess that they are, I ask, "Having fun?"

Justin frowns. Tommy sticks out his tongue, and then, looking down at his crotch, frowns. Picking at his jeans, Tommy asks, "Shower?"

"Gross," Justin says, pushing to a stand. "Shower and a washing machine."

"If you had more control…"

"Shut up, Brian," Justin snaps. "Not like you were the king of stamina when he was blowing you."

Heading into the bathroom, I look over my shoulder and say, "Least I didn't pop off in my wittle tightie whities."

Coming in behind me, pushing his way to the toilet, Tommy mutters, "Fuck off, man, and start the shower."

I give the little bossy fucker a look. And start the shower.

Watching Tommy beneath the spray of the water – his head tilted back and eyes closed, breathy little moans pouring out of his mouth – makes me want to kiss him. And since Justin's had his turn at Tommy's mouth, it's only fair I get mine.

Crowding into Tommy's space until his back is against the glass, I drag a hand over his chest and wait until he's looking at me. Hot water rains down, the steam builds and swirls, and all I can think about is Tommy's mouth. Because, _fucking_ Christ… his mouth is made of sin.

He tastes like my come and the stupid candies Justin eats all the time, a splash of whiskey and a faint hint of something spicy.

 _Fuck_ , someone trained this kid well… he cants his head back and just lets me take and take and damn well take. 

Breaking the kiss, I attack Tommy's neck, dragging teeth and tongue over his damp skin. He leans his head further back, stretching until his head meets the glass shower wall, and moans. 

"More?" I whisper in his ear.

"Yes, goddammit," Tommy hisses.

Reaching out, I wrap my hand around Justin's wrist and tug him beneath the spray of water. If one wet and slippery blond is hot, two has to be damn near blistering in its intensity.

And when Tommy's hand wraps around my dick and Justin's finger rubs over my hole, I figure out that blistering hot doesn't even come close to covering it.

Towel wrapped around his waist, Tommy looks at me and asks, "Washer?"

"Just give them to me, Tommy," Justin says.

"Yeah, just give them to the hostess with the mostess," I say, smirking. "He'll make sure there're no come stains showing in the morning."

I duck the sticky underwear Justin tosses at my head and, laughing, motion Tommy towards the wet bar. "Drink?"

"Whiskey?"

The kid has good taste, I'll give him that. From the corner of my eye, I see Justin disappear with an arm full of dirty clothes, leaving me alone with Tommy for the first time. Passing Tommy his drink, I grab a smoke and hope to fuck he isn't a goddamn talker like Justin.

He takes care of that fear when, taking a deep swallow of whiskey, he drops down on the sofa and, leaning his head back, closes his eyes.

Seriously, I really do like this kid. He gives great head, is shameless in the shower, and doesn't believe in filling the silence with inane chatter. I can see us all staying in touch and arranging for a few repeat fucks whenever he's near enough to the Pitts.

Wincing, I shake my head. That's dangerous thinking I'm doing, time to redirect. I pick up the phone and order some Thai delivery. Even if we don't eat it when it gets here, it'll be easy enough to reheat later.

Justin has Tommy flat on his back with his legs spread wide when the buzzer sounds. "Goddammit," I snap, stumbling to the door and poking a finger at the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Delivery?"

"Fuck. Bring it up." I motion towards the bedroom. "Take it in there before he gets up here. We're not offering free floor shows tonight."

Shoving too much money into the delivery guy's hand, I take the Thai and push it into the fridge, grabbing three bottles of water in exchange. Justin has the lube in his hand when I reach the edge of the bed.

"Stop," I say – growl, maybe even snap – as I set the water on the floor. "No lube, not yet."

"Brian?"

I've been thinking about eating Tommy's ass since I soaped it up in the shower. Damn if I'm going to get a mouthful of lube for my efforts. Waving Justin off, I take the space between Tommy's legs. I rub my hands over his thighs and the cheeks of his ass, waiting until the slight tension strumming through him slows and he relaxes against the mattress. Using my thumbs, I spread the cheeks of his ass and, leaning in, drag my tongue back and forth over his hole.

Tommy jerks away, clawing his way up the mattress. When I look up – confused as all hell, because who doesn't like a tongue up their ass? – I find Tommy staring at me, his nose crinkled and eyes wide. It's apparent this is the first time anyone has tried rimming him. 

Two thoughts slam into me at the same time. First, the kid is obviously hanging out with the wrong fags. And second, I'm bastard enough to be happy, and just a bit smug, about being the first one to tongue the fuck out of Tommy's hole.

"Easy, Tommy," I murmur. Then, looking at Justin, I say, "Entertain him, Justin. Good Christ."

Justin shimmies down the bed and, stretching out beside Tommy, leans and takes Tommy's mouth in a kiss. We're really going to have to renegotiate that no kissing rule.

And I seriously want a pass on the no numbers thing where Tommy is concerned. Because damn if I want this kid escaping the loft without a way to get in touch the next time he hits the east coast. Or if Justin ends up in LA again and I fly out for a weekend visit. 

When I'm sure Justin has him preoccupied – I know the brain damage Justin's mouth can cause – I lean in again, first teasing the edge of Tommy's hole, and then fucking into his ass with my tongue.

It takes seconds – a slow, silent count to seven – before Tommy groans and goes lax.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through me. Like I said, someone trained little Tommy Joe. Even if they did it without shoving their tongue up his ass, the damn fools.

The room fills with the sounds of Tommy's moans and Justin's harsh breaths, the wet squelches of licking and slurping. Sex – pure wanton arousal – scents the air, a twisting and twining combination of wary but needy (Tommy) and shameless desire (Justin) and straight the fuck out horniness (me, of course). 

And then Tommy finally tumbles over the brink, the cautiously whispered words of _so dirty_ and _fuck, man, fuck_ , morphing into stuttered greedy demands of _yes_ and _more_ and _goddammit, Brian_.

Justin can come from this, from me having my tongue up his ass and my thumb pressing in and rubbing behind his balls. I wonder if Tommy is the same way, if I can make him shoot just like this. If we had more than one night, I'd be tempted to find out.

I slowly pull back, wiping one hand over my face as I reach blindly for the lube with the other. Looking at Justin, I arch a brow, silently daring him to say the same thing I said to him years ago.

"Now you know what rimming is," Justin murmurs, lips moving over Tommy's jaw. "Don't settle for less ever again." 

The last line draws an eye roll from me. Leave it to Justin to adlib, though it is good advice. Pushing slick fingers –first thrusting in with two and then, when I find Tommy's hole loose enough, a thick bunch of three – I say, "Justin, hand me a condom."

Leaning over Tommy's back, I put the rubber on and then push into him with one steady cant of my hips. "Fuck."

Kid might not have a memorable ass, but he sure as fuck has a hole so tight it won't be easy to forget.

I roll my hips, setting a lazy cadence of thrust and retreat. I'm quite content to keep it up, to fuck him slow and easy, drawing it out for as long as possible. At least I am until Justin whines, voice high-pitched and needy. 

"Follow me back," I whisper in Tommy's ear. And then I sit up and settle on my haunches, bringing Tommy with me. As he settles on my lap, my dick slides in deeper, causing us both to shudder and mutter matching four-letter words beneath our breath.

"C'mere," I say – slur, whisper, what-the-fuck-ever, because, _Jesus, fuck_ , Tommy is just wallowing in everything I decide to give him and, really, instead of pulling Justin along, I just want to get back to giving it to Tommy.

When Justin stays at the head of the bed, I growl and motion him to the space between Tommy's legs. "Now, Justin. Tommy wants to suck on your tongue and wrap his hand around your dick."

Tommy confirms my claim with a deep, throaty moan. He lifts one arm up and wraps his fingers around my neck, and reaches out towards Justin with the other. "Yeah, man. I want that."

Justin drops to his hands and knees and crawls – fucking _crawls_ – the short distance from one end of the bed to the other. It's fucking hot. Just like the way he licks into Tommy's mouth – one hand around Tommy' cock, the other pushing through Tommy's hair – is fucking hot.

Cock buried in Tommy's ass, I'm more than happy to sit still and enjoy the show… until Tommy leans his head against my shoulder and groans, his ass tightening around my dick. "Christ."

Curling my fingers over Tommy's hipbones, I rock my hips in short stabbing jerks. It's the most I can do in this position. The most I can do without stopping the mutual hand jobs Tommy and Justin seem intent on giving each other.

"Do it," I tell them. "Come all over each other. Make him come, Justin."

A moan vibrates between them, and then dances through Tommy and over my cock. They need to hurry the fuck up. Make each other shoot so I can push Tommy down and fuck him.

As if they heard my thoughts – unless, shit, did I say that out loud? – Tommy murmurs a string of _fuck, fuck, yes, fuck_ and Justin leans his head back, eyes screwed tight, and they both freeze, shoulders tight and necks straining. And the scent of spunk – salty and wet and hot – fills the air.

"Justin." It's the only warning they get. Fortunately, Justin, like most times, is on the same page as I am. He falls to his back, legs bent and spread wide. The hand Justin has threaded through Tommy's hair, and my hand splayed across Tommy's belly, helps to guide Tommy forward until he's laying on top of Justin, pressed together chest-to-chest. 

Tommy is ass high, his legs held wide by the spread of Justin's thighs, and all I can do is fuck into him with long, powerful strokes. Taking and taking and taking…

Need and want burn a path down my spine, settling deep in my balls, and, mouth open on a silent cry, I give over to natural instinct and hump Tommy's ass with short, fettered thrusts as my orgasm crashes over me.

Dropping back to the bed, all I can think is thank fuck Justin keeps a stack of come towels beside the bed. There's no fucking way I'd make it to the bathroom and back right now.

"Sleep," Tommy says, pressing his back along my side as he curls around Justin.

I grunt in response. This kid… he's just full of good ideas.

I wake up to the sound of Justin and Tommy whispering. Well, attempting to whisper.

"Don't text Brian, though," Justin says. "He thinks phones are only meant for talking on."

At that, I open my eyes and stare at Justin. It doesn't take long until Justin looks away from his phone and towards me. I don't say a word. I'm sure the quirk of my brow is conveying all that needs to be said.

"What?" His cheeks tinge pink with the hint of a blush. "I added him to your phone first."

"Uh huh," I say. It's better than starting an argument and having Justin delete Tommy's number out of our phones. "Give him the office number too?"

The blush darkens. "Um, yeah. He mentioned knowing some people…"

"California accounts are always good to have," I say, cutting Justin off before he sprains his brain trying to come up with a good excuse. Because apparently he is not going to just own up to the fact that we both want to fuck Tommy again. "Justin's right, though." I give Tommy a pointed look. "You actually want a response from me? You call me. I delete text messages without reading them unless they're from my son."

Pushing out of the bed, I head to the bathroom. "I'll be in the shower."

"Alone?"

A smirk plays about my lips. "Only for as long as it takes the two of you to get in here."

It doesn't take them long to wander into the bathroom. Before I have the water temperature set, they are taking up space in the shower stall. By the time steam is filling the air, Justin has Tommy pushed against the glass and, with their tongues battling in open-air kisses, Justin's rolling his hips and grinding their dicks against each other.

It's either going to be one hell of a late morning shower or those two are gonna pop off before it has a chance to really turn into something good.

Grabbing the lube and a condom, I move in behind Justin and say, "Slow down. It isn't a race, remember?"

Justin pulls away from Tommy's mouth long enough to whisper, "Fuck off, Brian."

"Or maybe," I return, pushing two lubed fingers into his ass, "I'll just fuck you."

"Yeah," Tommy says. "That."

Huffing, I shake my head. "You know, Tommy, I really do like you."

"Great, always good to be lik…" Tommy says. Justin picks that moment to bite down on Tommy's shoulder and the kid's words turn into a moan and then a rush of heavy panting. "Fuck."

"Exactly." I push my cock into Justin's ass and, leaning over Justin's shoulder, take Tommy's mouth with a brutal kiss. It's all teeth and tongue, the polar opposite of the gentle, almost fucking romantic shit he was doing with Justin earlier. Tommy meets me with the same enthusiasm he'd shown Justin.

I cannot believe Justin thought this kid was straight. 

Setting a fast rhythm, I rock in and out of Justin's ass, pushing him into, and then pulling him away from, Tommy. None of us are going to last long. Not with the heat and the hands and the fucking…

Justin blows first, his ass locking down on my dick like a vice. He buries his face against Tommy's neck and moans and curses and comes. 

"Grab his dick, Justin. Don't leave the pretty boy hangin'." 

Justin's arm pumps in time with my hips, and his teeth drag along Tommy's neck, leaving tiny bursts of pink in a random, erratic path. Hope to fuck Lambert has a good make-up team or everyone's going to know Tommy-boy got laid right before the show.

Wonder how many people would bet it was Lambert tagging his guitarist. Fuck knows, if Tommy weren't here with us, I'd damn sure lay money on it.

Tommy drops his head back, the glass of the stall rattling with the force, and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, he groans. And comes. 

Pressing my forehead against Tommy's cheek, nose filling with the combined scent of their release, I snap my hips hard and fast, slamming my cock into Justin's ass, and hold, letting the rush of orgasm flow through me. 

"Shower, now," Tommy murmurs seconds – minutes, maybe – later. "One of us has to get to fucking work soon."

And Justin and I have to get ready for a concert. There's no way Justin'll willingly miss the show now. I'm inclined to agree with him. Tommy is definitely worth watching.

I've never seen Liberty Avenue so goddamned packed. Looking around I realize it's not just the usual fags jamming up the streets. Good fuck. Adam Lambert travels with a healthy following from the straight brigade. Taking a sharp left down a back alley, I snap, "Fuck."

Good thing I own Babylon. Means there is guaranteed parking and a back way to the diner. Stepping out of the alley beside the diner, we're met with a wall of people. Tommy calls them Glamberts. I think of them as pains in my fucking ass. With a practiced glare, and a few well-placed elbows, I bully our way through the crowd and to the backside of the staging area. 

"Tommy!" Adam Lambert shouts as soon as we're in view. "We need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy wrinkles his nose and, _Christ_ , I think it's cute. It's the same look he gave me last night when I first started to rim him. The blown-eyed, fuck me now look he had after I had my tongue in his ass was nowhere near as adorable. Hotter, but definitely not meant to be seen in public.

Adam gives Justin and me a look, some kind of mash-up between _hello_ and _if you hurt him, I will kill you_. I dare one of them to tell me they haven't fucked each other before. Dare them. Turning back to Tommy, he asks, "Have you checked Twitter?"

I roll my eyes. Twitter. The bane of my fucking existence. Gus loves it, I find it trifling. 

"Nope, was busy." Tommy cants his head in my direction. "Adam, Brian and Justin. Guys, this is Adam."

Adam waves a hand at us and says, "Already know who they are, baby."

Baby? Really? I'm sure my distaste is easy for them all to see. I start tuning him and his stupidly sweet nicknames out.

"The three of you are all over the internet."

Okay, time to tune back the fuck in. "Beg your pardon?"

Adam looks at me and then back to Tommy. "Someone snapped a picture in Babylon and then another when you all were walking out the door and then…"

"It just went from there," Tommy says, disillusioned and despondent. "Well, fuck."

"Yes, we did fuck," I say, pushing Adam's hand off Tommy's shoulder and, twisting my hand in his t-shirt, tugging him closer to Justin and me. "And there isn't a goddamn thing wrong with that. So lose the pout and go out there tonight and…"

"Be the best homosexual you can be," Justin finishes, smirking at me.

I make a face at Justin. Because, really, I don't remember giving him permission to cop that line of mine. "Twat."

"Yup," Justin says, unrepentant.

Tommy shakes his head and huffs a short laugh. "You two…"

"Will be out front," I tell him. I look at Justin and, after he gives me a slight nod, say, "So, you'll know where to find us when the show is over. We'll see if you two can keep from coming in your pants this time."

Tommy gives me the finger, then asks, "What about the one time only rule you two have?" 

He has no idea how many rules that have already been broken for him. No idea at all. Rolling my shoulders in a lazy shrug, I say, "And miss all the fun?"


End file.
